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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647225">εight ωorld's ωonders</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana'>Laeana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>⑩ ωαүs тσ ∂ιε [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Esteban Ocon Is Trying His Best, Exhaustion, Fighting, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Secrets, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Sickness, Tragedy, World Travel, living will</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:40:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26647225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He was living with a heavy secret. Heavy, so heavy and he was tired, so tired ...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>⑩ ωαүs тσ ∂ιε [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>εight ωorld's ωonders</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945642">εnd σf мe</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana">Laeana</a>.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>ᴡᴇ · ʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴋɪᴅs</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>⑧</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He is one of those a little too new to the group without really being. He returned to college after a year of traveling abroad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, travel. "Studies" rather. For everyone, these are studies he apparently did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is not true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His little lie just to him. That with everything he's hiding from them, he wonders if they'll end up resenting him if they are made aware of the whole truth. But they should already know it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Esteban has traveled the world. He's been in Europe, he's been in America, he's been in Asia. In Australia too. He toured the places, visited those of which he had been told, photos of which had been shown to him, of which ... a true tourist, he gave himself his moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, he saved up for two years, asked it as a last request to his parents who eventually agreed, willy-nilly, and embarked on his project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A year of trying to forget everything he would find on his return, the misfortune and desolation he would have to face. Now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he carried in his bag, with him, wherever he went.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>⑦</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He and Max had an argument before he left but when he returned the Dutchman is less than fine and then he dies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's like a shock because it's a constant reminder for him. Death spares no one, it is everywhere, present at every moment, watching us until we stumble and at that moment it throws itself on us. Like an eagle waiting for prey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Attending his funeral is heartbreaking, he swears he has never seen Daniel so devastated. The Australian is no longer crying but his red eyes and tremors leave no doubt as to his condition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands by his side and runs a hand behind his back, supporting him as they close the coffin and cover it little by little, leaving Max underground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It starts to rain and he picks up Daniel, takes him home but he doesn't get anywhere and even has trouble finding the right words to comfort him. What to say when such a loss has just been suffered? Himself is hurt because a fucking suicide. A suicide. He would never have believed the youngest one capable of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then how can you reassure someone when he knows that he himself will not be able to stay by his side for long ?</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>⑥</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He talked to the others about depression, they all talked about it together. They encouraged those among them who did not feel well to come and see them, Pierre and Charles were quite committed, Lando was elsewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a hard time getting up this morning. His body cried for mercy, pain ran through it. He felt how difficult it had become to do everything as before, events around him didn't help matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact remains that he accomplished his routine, goes to each class as requested by his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they implored him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>for now you must continue.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, good child that he is and since they granted his wish, he decided that he would follow their instructions to the letter. Even if it is clearly not recommended to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He persists, he clings to everything he can to prevent himself from sinking.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>⑤</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He is ill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the heavy secret of a life. The one he tries to forget, to hide under the carpet, as if everything is fine, as if he isn't terrified deep inside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's what it's like to wake up one morning, one mundane, ordinary morning, January 22nd at half past six, because your damn brain has picked up the smallest details, with what you think was the flu before the doctor tells you that you aren’t going to survive there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is what the weight of a Damocles sword over his head is and two years since he was diagnosed dying and two years since he got up every morning looking at himself in the mirror and smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not today, not yet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>④</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>As a child, he always dreamed of traveling the world. He would have liked to play a sport that shows horizons or something like that ... dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's why, before dying, he made one of the quickest decisions of his life; he decided to make his childhood wish come true, not supporting the idea of disappearing without having discovered these thousand and one corners which are full of mysteries and beauties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has always been a perfectly normal student. This disease had hardly any place to be, it was spreading in his family apparently. Every now and then, going back over a generation, killing a person or two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, there, immediately, he wonders why it fell on him.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>③</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His hand is shaking so much, he can no longer hold his pencil correctly and it slips from his fingers. He wants to bend down to retrieve it but is suddenly frozen in place, struck down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curious looks around him, whispers and he tries, he tries so hard to resist, not to be weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his body, already exhausted from the long fight, a fight that saved him two months on the predictions of experts, loose.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>②</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The white sheets in the hospital are making him sick. The white walls of the hospital make him sick. Everything makes him sick. Starting with these shapeless pills that he swallows and they are useless and he feels more and more tired and it is a vicious cycle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Again</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he whispers, </span>
  <em>
    <span>once again. I want to get out of here, I want to laugh with my friends, I want to travel more, I want to meet the love of my life, I want to get married and have children, I want to be able to grow old and die feeling like I have lived well, I want time. I want time ...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p>
  <b>①</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His eyelids are so heavy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ouch. Esteban is not a driver on which i wrote a lot, to be honest, it was the real first time i was writing about him and i'm talking about one of the hardest thematics to deal with for me : disease. I hope you ... loved this work.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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